


Love Is Not A Victory March (It's A Cold and It's A Broken Hallelujah)

by swedish_furniture



Series: They're In The Water [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Sex Stuff, dubcon, gabriel not being dead, leviathans talking shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 14:24:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1188519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swedish_furniture/pseuds/swedish_furniture
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Where’s Crowley?”</p>
<p>The leviathan winks.  “Wouldn’t you like to know?  But I’m sure I could be persuaded to give you a hint, with the right... motivation.”  The lewd once-over he gives Gabriel leaves no question about what kind of ‘motivation’ he’s talking about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Is Not A Victory March (It's A Cold and It's A Broken Hallelujah)

Gabriel pops into Crowley’s office, with a loud ‘bang’ and a shower of confetti.  “NOT DEAD!” he announces to the room at large, preparing to dodge an irritated Crowley- and then he gets a look at the office itself. 

It’s ransacked.  There are bookcases overturned and rubble in place of some of the walls, and the desk looks like someone set it on fire, rebuilt it, and then set it on fire _again_.  It’s a wreck, and not something Gabriel would have expected to see in Crowley’s home.

(The demon may be a bit of a neat freak.  He will deny all accusations of this.)

“…Crowley?” Gabriel calls out cautiously.  “Sweet cheeks?”

There’s no reply, but there’s a rustle from behind the angel-turned-trickster that makes him whirl around, angel blade in hand.

“Now, darling, is that any way to treat a friend?”

The thing behind him looks like Crowley, talks like Crowley, but Gabriel’s been around for millennia, and he’s nobody’s fool, no matter how much he likes to act it. 

“Leviathan,” he hisses, moving to put his back against one of the few remaining walls of the office. 

“Ding ding ding, give the man a prize!” the Crowley-shaped leviathan says. 

“Where’s Crowley?”

The leviathan winks.  “Wouldn’t you like to know?  But I’m sure I could be persuaded to give you a hint, with the right… _motivation_.”  The lewd once-over he gives Gabriel leaves no question about what kind of ‘motivation’ he’s talking about.

Gabriel snaps up a bed, no hesitation, stomach roiling. 

In the blink of an eye, the leviathan is in front of Gabriel, shoving him onto the bed, ripping off his shirt. 

“Looks like someone’s been skipping the gym,” it says, pinching at his stomach.  It hurts, but probably not as much as getting his face eaten would, and Gabriel doesn’t particularly feel like telling the leviathan that being dead for a couple of years would put a bit of paunch on anybody.

The leviathan gets started on Gabriel’s pants, doesn’t even bother taking them off, just pulls down the zipper, and grabs Gabriel’s cock.  It jerks it, once, twice, and Gabriel grunts and snaps up a bottle of lube. 

“We’re not playing Bop-It, kiddo,” he informs the leviathan, not bothering to keep the disgust out of his voice. 

The leviathan crawls in top of him, grinds their hips together, says, “We’ll play whatever game I feel like playing, _kiddo_ , or you’ll never see your demon slut again.”

Gabriel doesn’t bother answering, just arches his back, and grinds back against the leviathan. 

“Now _that’s_ the spirit,” the leviathan says reaching down with a handful of lube to jerk off Gabriel again.

(He hisses.  The bastard hadn’t bothered to warm it up, hadn’t even bothered asking if Gabriel would snap up some heat, but, then again, Gabriel doesn’t want to enjoy this.  The leviathan is a means to an end, and the quicker this is over with, the quicker Gabe can get out of here.)

Meanwhile, little Gabriel is finally taking an interest in the proceedings, making a hot liquid want uncurl in his chest, making him stifle a moan, arch back against the leviathan.  The leviathan laughs, and Gabriel has literally never hated anything more in his entire existence. 

“Calm down, big boy, or this’ll be over before we can even get to the ninth inning.” It tells him, and Gabriel forces himself to move away. 

The leviathan flips him over, pulls his pants down, _finally_ , and Gabriel hates how easy it is for him.  There’s a finger in his ass, more poking around than actual prep work, then a second finger.

The leviathan doesn’t bother with a third, just slicks up its cock and lines up with Gabriel’s ass.  It pushes in, no hesitation at all, and it hurts, oh _Dad_ , does it hurt, and Gabriel bites his arm to stop from whimpering. 

(He breaks the skin, tastes blood, _hates_ it.  This is nothing like sex with Crowley.  Crowley, for all his being a demon, was gentle in bed, to a fault.  This is a twisted caricature of sex with Crowley, and the leviathan knows it.)

“Oh man, oh _man_ , I can see the appeal,” the leviathan is saying above Gabriel.  “Your fuckin’ _ass_ , I could probably shove coal up there and turn it into a diamond, you’re so tight.  Maybe I will, just to see, when we’re done here.”

Gabriel doesn’t answer, just lies there taking it. 

“Can’t see what was in it for you, though.”  The leviathan is really _talky_ during sex, and it’s annoying.  “You’re not having much fun, Crowles couldn’t have been so good in bed if you’re not moaning like a bitch in heat with his cock up your ass.  Maybe it’s the accent?”

The leviathan leans over, puts its mouth by Gabriel’s ear.  “Was it the accent, was that the appeal, angel baby?”  He gives a hard thrust.  “Darling.”  Thrust.  “Bloody hell.”  _Thrust_.  “Bugger.”  Thrust.  “ _Harry Potter.”_

(It’s lisping through a mouthful of cuisinart teeth, mauling Crowley’s voice in Gabriel’s ear.)

The leviathan pulls out, comes all over Gabriel’s back.  Its thumb moves in lazy circles over his shoulders, rubbing it in.  “Well, now isn’t that just a _sight_.” It says, in a mocking imitation of a southern belle’s drawl. 

(Gabriel wants to cry, wants to run into Crowley’s arms, wants to snap himself into a volcano and never come up for air.  He’s not going to do any of these things where the leviathan can see, he’s not going to give it any more leverage over him than it already has.)

He stands up, snaps himself clean and into a new outfit. 

(The bed, he snaps away into a bottomless pit in the middle of the ocean, where he’ll never have to see it again.)

“Alright, you’ve had your fun.” He says, struggling to make his voice emotionless, give nothing away, for all that he’s already shown his hand to purgatory and back.  “Now tell me where Crowley is.”

“Oh, _him_?” the leviathan asks, casual as you please, with a smile that shows all his teeth.

“ _We ate him.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2014 Leviantines exchange on Tumblr.


End file.
